I've been giving lots of time and attention to nonfiction picture books lately, so I welcome this pause to celebrate a minimal-text/nearly wordless new book of fiction. It feels "just right" on many levels and I hope you'll agree. HOME IN A LUNCHBOX is the tasteful, heart-tugging work of writer/illustrator Cherry Mo. It was the well-deserved winner of a Caldecott Honor Medal recently, and many other accolades.
This fiction picture book accomplishes what often occurs- that HUMAN TRUTH, the kind of universal realities that all or many of us experience, can reveal itself most clearly through fiction. The author/illustrator reports that this story mirrors many aspects of her own childhood relocation with her loving family, and she has captured every child-like element of such an exciting-terrifying-hopeful-heartbreaking aspect of the major change that launches this story.
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| PENGUIN WORKSHOP, 2024 |
In this case, a young girl and her parents move from Hong Kong to a small American town, a story in itself that is told with a visual transition on the opening end papers. On the left is a complex and ultra-urban prior home, but a road travels to the right with the image of a truck labeled INTERNATIONAL MOVERS. That transports readers to a simpler, seemingly suburban neighborhood. It's a seismic journey of thousands of miles captured on endpapers!
Title page illustrations and those that follow (full page illustrations, strips, panels, and double-spread pages) use minimal text: only brief speech bubbles, iconic signs, or words (in two languages) written on the palm of Jun's hand. Each image is powerful in carrying the plot narrative and the deep emotions throughout Jun's efforts to be friendly, meet people, understand a totally foreign language, and interpret the confused reponses she gets to her efforts.
It is at lunch time, sitting alone, when Jun is transported back to her loving family and prior life whenever she opens her lunchbox. The comfort of delicious memories, literally and figuratively, gives her the strength to make it home, off the bus, and into her mother's arms that first day.
Each day after reveals more roadblocks and hurdles, but the bus-riding neighbor girl who wanted to be friendly is effectively shown throughout as noticing, as growing in awareness of Jun not just as someone new, or even an outsider, but as a child like herself, one with something to to say and do. That observant friend eventually plays a pivotal role, as do the contents of the lunchbox. A not too surprising happy ending does not disappoint because the scene shifts and reveals even more cultural specialties shared with new-found friends. A few pages of back matter provide the phonetic spelling for the words on Jun's hands, as well as the names for the foods featured in the lunchbox and during the conclusion. The closing end papers provide a Jun-styled art display of her contrasting homes that are fun to compare to the opening papers in content and style.
Return for a moment to the premise with which I began: fiction can artfully convey the deepest truths. Leaving home is never easy. Being the "new kid" is challenging, even without language and cultural differences. We all need talismans of comfort, and food often does the trick. When things get difficult, seek refuge among your safe people, but return again to face those difficulties. And hold on to the child within you- those emotions are some of the purest, truest, most constructive of any you will ever feel. Last, but not finally (since this story of few words offers depths of story levels), when you see someone struggle or in need of a friend, reach out. And then do it again, if the first time goes awry. EMPATHY is not a weakness it is a feature of maturity and humanity, not a glitch.
I can think of no better book to share as widely and often as possible and no better time than now.
